The Rowan
- Автор: Маккефри Энн
- Серия: Tower and the Hive #1
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Rowan». Краткое содержание книги:
The kinetically gifted, trained in mind/machine gestalt, are the most valued citizens of the Nine Star League. Using mental powers alone, these few Prime Talents transport ships, cargo and people between Earth's Moon, Mars' Demos and Jupiter's Callisto.
An orphaned young girl, simply called The Rowan, is discovered to have superior telepathic potential and is trained to become Prime Talent on Callisto. After years of self-sacrificing dedication to her position, The Rowan intercepts an urgent mental call from Jeff Raven, a young Prime Talent on distant Deneb. She convinces the other Primes to merge their powers with hers to help fight off an attack by invading aliens. Her growing relationship with Jeff gives her the courage to break her status-imposed isolation, and choose the more rewarding world of love and family.
"Mommie?" The team medic leapt forward, radiating reassurance and love.
"It's all over, honey. You're safe. We've got you safe." She pressed the hypno spray to a muddied arm before the child could realize that her parents were not among those clustered around the hopper. At that, the sedative was not quite fast enough to allay the anguished mental yowl which all Altair heard from the orphaned Rowan child.
"We've done as much as we can," the Chief Medical Officer said in a slightly defensive tone.
"We know you have," Interior replied, radiating all the approval she could project.
"The fact remains that the Rowan child is not cooperating," the Governor remarked with a rueful sigh.
"It's only ten days since the tragedy," Interior added.
"And there are definitely no relatives to take charge of her?" the Governor asked.
Interior consulted her records. "We have the choice of eleven parents of similar genotype because many of the miners were from the same ethnic background. The Company headquarters did not keep backup files of the infirmary records, so we don't even know how many children have been born since the camp was established ten years ago. So, no immediate relatives. There are doubtless some back on Earth.
The Governor cleared his throat. "Earth has more high ranking Talents than any other planet." "We do indeed need to guard our natural resources," Interior replied with a slight smile.
"Let it be noted and so stipulated in the records of this meeting that the Rowan child," he had paused for someone to supply a name, "is henceforth a Ward of the Planet Altair 4. Now what?" and he turned to Interior.
"Well, she can't stay indefinitely in the Pediatrics Ward," she replied and turned to the Chief Medical Officer.
"My chief therapist says she's basically recovered from shock. The lacerations and hematoma sustained in the slide have healed. She has also managed to block all memory of the disaster but she can't quite delete the fact that the child had parents, and possibly siblings." He nodded as the others murmured against more repressive measures. "But…" and he spread his hands, "she is parentless, and although the T-8 junior therapist has managed to… to deal with the general telepathic "noise", the child's control is limited and her span of concentration woefully short." Everyone grimaced, for the entire planet was still favored with outbursts from the Rowan child.
"Does she receive as well as broadcast?" the Governor finally asked.
The Medic shrugged. "She must or she wouldn't hear Siglen." "Now that is something that has to be stopped," Interior said, setting her lips in a firm line before she went on.
"Slapping the child down for perfectly normal…"
"If loud," the Governor amended.
"…exuberance - which you must admit is a welcome change from the crying - is going to inhibit what Talent the child has," Interior went on. "Siglen may be a Prime T amp;T but she doesn't possess a single neuron of empathy, and her insensitivity to the child's situation borders on the callous." "Siglen may have no empathy," the Governor said, a thoughtful look filming his gaze, "but she has great pride in her profession and she has already trained two Primes to their current responsibilities at Betelgeuse and Capella." Someone grunted cynically.
"She's the most logical person in this system to undertake the Rowan child's education." "She's been made a Ward of Altair," Interior stated, sitting erect with opposition, "and no-one's likely to contend that. She'd have more kindly treatment on Earth at the Center. They'd care about her. I vote we send her there. And as soon as possible." Lusena had the task of explaining it all to the Rowan child.
The T-8 had been working steadily with her, playing games to get her to speak with her physical voice, rather than her mental one. Once the child was recovered from the physical effects and the sedative dosage had been reduced, Lusena had taken her to select a pukha toy from the hospital's supply.
Pukhas, deriving their name from the imaginary companion discovered by needful children, had become widely used in pediatrics.
They could be programmed for a variety of uses, but more often were used in surgical and long term care with great effect and as surrogates for intense dependency cases. The Rowan child needed her own pukha.
Considerable thought had been given to its programming: its long soft hair was composed of receptors, monitoring the child's physical and psychic health. It could, receiving danger signals from the Rowan, initiate pacifying sentiments, encourage conversation and, of paramount importance, moderate the little girl's mental "voice". It also responded with its soothing, rumbling purr when the little girl became restless or distressed. Although Lusena and the pediatrics staff would adjust the pukha's programs throughout its usefulness, every sensitive on Altair knew when the Rowan christened it "Purza". Her silvery laughter was a great improvement over whimpering, and almost everyone was sympathetic to the little orphan.
Siglen's personal assistant, Bralla, a T-8 empath, certainly was and did her best to soothe her mistress - who could, Bralla had admitted to the stationmaster, be more juvenile at times than the Rowan child.
"Siglen might benefit by having a pukha herself," Bralla told the stationmaster, for Siglen had been extremely irascible when the Rowan child's babble intruded on her concentration.
Gerolaman snorted. "The kind of cuddling she wants she'll never get." And snorted again as Bralla frantically signaled him to guard his sentiments.
"She's not really a bad person, Gerolaman. Just…"
"Far too accustomed to being THE most important person on the planet. She doesn't like competition, not no way, no how. You remember that dustup with Yegrani?" "Gerolaman, she's not deaf!" Bralla rose, "She's about to need me. See you later."
Purza was not always the key to exemplary behavior for a three-year-old. Siglen's intolerance, even with Bralla's discreet assistance, fell all too frequently on the Rowan child. Finally, the Secretary of Interior decided that someone had to do something about Siglen, and it was going to give her intense personal and official satisfaction to do so.
"Prime Siglen, a matter of urgent importance," Interior said as soon as the T-1 came on screen. "We have been able to divert a passenger ship tomorrow to collect the Rowan child."
"Collect her?" Siglen blinked in astonishment.
"Yes, we shall get her out of your hair by noon, so you will kindly see that her remaining hours on Altair are not punctuated by your reprimands." "Remaining hours on Altair? You must be insane!" Siglen's eyes widened with shock and horror, and her fingers stopped fondling her sea-jewel necklace. "You can't expose a child… a mere infant… to such a trauma." "It seems the wisest course," Interior replied grimly, shielding the real reason.
"But she can't go. She's Prime potential…" Siglen stammered, her complexion ashen. She released her necklace to grip the edge of the console. "She'll… she'll die! You know as well as I do," and Siglen's words crowded each other out of her mouth, "what happens to the truly Talented in space… I mean, look at how ill David became. Remember how devastated Capella was. To subject an infant… of unknown potential… to such mind-destroying trauma! Why, you must be mad, Interior. You cannot! I will not permit it!"
"Well, you're not permitting the child to exercise her Talent. She'll get expert attention and training on Earth at the Center." "You'd abandon that child of Altair, you'd send her away from kith and kin…" "She doesn't have any on Altair," Interior heard herself saying, and then realized that Siglen was about to launch into one of her attitudes. "Prime Siglen, it is the order of the Council that the Ward of Altair be transported to the Earth Center - with your well-known delicacy of kinesis on the passenger ship which has been diverted to Altair for that purpose. Good day to you!" As soon as the image on the screen was erased, Interior turned to the Medic and Lusena. "I'd've thought she'd flip the kid out to the ship without its having to land!" "Is there any foundation in what she said about David of Betelgeuse and Capella?" asked the Medic frowning. He'd been a minor medical administrator ten years ago and not privy to details of that period.